


Welcome to Los Santos

by grilledtrees



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexuality, But kinda is, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Friendships, Don't Read This, Drug Dealing, Drug Use, F/M, Grand Theft Auto Online, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Not Romance, Pansexual Character, Partner Betrayal, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Please Don't Hate Me, Rewrite, Rich Michael De Santa, Self-Indulgent, Trevor Philips Being an Asshole
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:34:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29038725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grilledtrees/pseuds/grilledtrees
Summary: Rewrite of my other (now deleted) fic.For my GTA V oc, Bar. Not really romance centric. Also don't perceive me please xx
Relationships: Franklin Clinton & Original Male Character(s), Michael De Santa/Original Character(s), Michael De Santa/Original Male Character(s), Trevor Philips/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 1





	1. Louis

**Author's Note:**

> Three arcs with about 10 chapters between, then about 5 between said arcs. (So like Arc 1 has 10 chapters (with 3 prior), and then 5 chapters before Arc 2, then repeat for Arc 3. so like..... 3..38??? chapters. i guess. they wont b that long tho and i probably wont even finish lol.)
> 
> anyway dont perceive me xx

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis.

_He was 11 when during his fifth grade year a new kid arrived. His name was Louis, and he was a crybaby. That's what everyone thought because he'd cry whenever someone was even slightly mean to him. Bar, at that point, was used to kids being mean to him. It wasn't like he was bullied, no. Bar's hair was just slightly longer than people expected for a boy and girls pulled his hair, asking if he was a girl. Boys would call him slurs they learned from their own parents but Bar never much cared. His parents were fine with it so he liked it regardless of what other people thought. That's why he didn't understand why Louis didn't just think the same way as he did. If your parents love you, Bar thought, that's enough._

_Maybe Louis's parents didn't love Louis, Bar had finally thought after a kid made fun of Louis's backpack one day. He was sobbing in the playground after school. Bar begrudgingly made his way over to the crying boy. "Do your parents love you or not?," Bar asked, tactless. Louis's big eyes looked up, and Bar had to avoid laughing at the sight. His parents taught him to be more sensitive but... Louis's face. "They do," Louis hiccupped finally, wiping away his tears. "Then doesn't it just matter what they think and not others?" Bar sits down next to him. Louis eyes him, suspiciously. "I... It's easy for you to say...," Louis protests weakly, picking at the bark, "They leave you alone." Bar frowns. "Because I don't give them a reaction, like you do." "I can't help crying!," Louis shouts, standing up and glaring at Bar. "What kind of a name is Bar anyway? Why don't they bully you?" "My parents like it," Bar replies with a shrug, not acknowledging the fact that Louis did, indeed, hate his name._

_"Do you want to sit with me at lunch tomorrow? They'll leave you alone if you aren't alone, probably," Bar offers suddenly. Louis's face twists in confusion. "I have to go home. You can sit with me if you want. But you don't have to." Bar stands up, leaving Louis there._

_The next day, Louis sits with Bar at any given opportunity. It repeats until the year ends, and they're close. Louis would tell Bar off for being insensitive, Bar would remind Louis to relax._

_They're inseparable all the way through the rest of elementary and middle school._

* * *

_"My mom thinks I'm gay," Bar says, laying at the foot of Louis's bed, sipping on a caprisun. Louis furrows his brows in question. It's eleventh grade now. "Uh..." It's all Louis says. "She said she'll support me no matter what, so I guess it's not that big of a deal." Louis feels lost. He doesn't really know why Bar brought this up. "Didn't you have a girlfriend literally... two weeks ago? You guys dated for a month?," Louis frowns. "That's what I said too." Bar takes another short sip. "I'm definitely not gay. I like women." Louis sighs in relief. Then Bar continues, "But I've definitely kissed some guys, so it's still up in the air." Louis chokes on nothing. Bar raises a brow at Louis in confusion. "What? I thought I told you?" "You definitely **did not**." "Oh. My bad," Bar shrugs, flipping through the pages of a comic book he's suddenly found interest in. _

_Louis shifts, uncomfortable with this new information. His chest feels weird. "So, what you like dudes and girls?," Louis asks, not really wanting to hear the answer. "Oh. Yeah, I guess." Bar looks at Louis with a sideways glance. "Does that bother you?" Louis immediately flushes, "No! No. It- No. You're still my best friend, no matter who you like." Bar's silence to that makes Louis feel like he messed up. Then quietly, Bar laughs. "Even if I like you?," Bar teases with a wink. Louis ignores the fluttery feeling he gets. He knows Bar. "Don't tease me," Louis scolds, "You know it's not funny." Bar frowns. "I'm not. I like you, Louis." The casualness of it all has Louis flushed with equal parts anger and embarrassment._

_"Bar, you- I- No," Louis finally settles on that one word. Bar tilts his head, a curious smile painted on. "It's okay to like you right? I won't if you don't want me to. And if you want to stop being my friend, I get it--" "No." Louis most certainly did not want to stop being Bar's friend. Bar'd easily get into some dumb shit if it weren't for Louis. But the first part... Louis was clueless. "I mean, I- I guess? I can't tell you how to feel. But I'm not going to stop being your friend because you say you like me." Bar sighs at the last part of Louis's sentence, reluctantly sitting up. His smile now gone, now a frown rests on his face. "Louis, I'm serious. I've liked you since seventh grade." When Louis opens his mouth, Bar holds up a hand. "I'm not asking you to like me back. I just want you to be comfortable with knowing this." "I'd rather have not known." It comes out before Louis can stop it. Bar's eyes widen and Louis holds a hand to his mouth. For the first time since he's met Bar, Louis thinks Bar might cry because he sees a glaze over Bar's eyes._

_But he doesn't, he just stands up. "You're right, I'm sorry," Bar apologizes, a vacant look on his face. "I--" But Bar's booked it out of there._

* * *

_They don't talk until Bar shows up at his house not even two weeks later, bloodied nose and clothes. "Got into a fight." is all he says before he walks past Louis, who quickly follows. "A fight!?," Louis panics, glancing around to make sure his mother isn't home. Not that she cared if Bar showed up, but she would fuss over Bar being hurt and he's sure Bar wouldn't have liked that._

_Bar heads to the bathroom, sitting on the toilet, holding a towel to his nose. "Er, let me get an icepack and some Band-Aids, alright? Don't move." "Wouldn't dream of it," and Louis is glad Bar's humor hasn't changed since their fight. He wonders if it was even a fight? It definitely felt like it and it felt like forever since he'd seen Bar, but in someone else's eyes, it may not have even seemed like that big of a deal. Bar, with a leg bent up to rest his chin on, is picking at the hem of his pants when Louis comes back. Bar tilts his head towards Louis, smiling at him. He turns his head back to focus on the hem of his pants._

_"Glad you aren't mad enough to kick me out," Bar says and Louis can hear the grin in his voice. "Turn your face towards me," Louis sighs, kneeling to look at Bar. Bar does so and Louis sees how sleepy he looks but his smile is still soft._

_"So," Louis says, leaning back to grab the icepack, "Why did you get into a fight again?" Bar gives a half shrug. "Who knows?" The airiness of the way he says it makes Louis worry further. But he doesn't press it further, applying Band-Aids to wherever Bar needs it. "Hey, I'm sorry," Bar whispers, "about saying that stuff- I-" Louis shakes his head immediately. "No. I'm sorry. I, uh," Louis rubs the back of his neck, pushing up his glasses, "I shouldn't said that to you." Bar looks down, "I was joking about liking you anyway, so you don't have to worry." Louis bites his lip. He doubts that he was joking, but this is his chance to ignore what happened. Though, for some reason, he doesn't want to. But looking at Bar now, he knows he has to._

_"You'd be lucky to have me anyway," Louis jokes as he takes the icepack off of Bar's face. Bar crinkles his nose in mock disgust. "If anything, you'd be the lucky to have me. I light up your world." Louis rolls his eyes, a grin appearing on his face. "Whatever. Wanna watch Donnie Darko?"_

_Bar smiles. "Hell yeah."_

* * *

_Then it's graduation and Louis is going to some bigwig college and Bar's helping him pack for the upcoming fall semester._

_Bar flops onto Louis's bed, staring at the ceiling. "Come on, Bar, you'd promise you'd help," Louis complains, throwing another shirt into a box. "I don't want you to go," Bar says, turning on his side to see Louis. "I won't be gone forever, I'll visit on holidays." Looking away, Bar thinks about how **he's** going to be the one who won't visit. He had wanted to tell Louis, but there just never was a good time. Or, that's what Bar tells himself to make himself feel better. But now that Louis was going to be gone in a months time, he can't help himself._

_"What if I don't visit?" Bar looks at Louis, who just laughs. "What? You're going to college?" Louis continues to pack and Bar feels a hint of annoyance bubble up. "No," Bar sighs, "I mean, I'm leaving this town. Leaving it for Liberty City. I don't plan on coming back." Louis pauses, turning to look at Bar with furrowed brows. "What's in Liberty City? I mean, they have some good colleges, I guess-" "I'm not going to college," Bar interrupts. Louis looks even more confused and it pisses Bar off that he can't pinpoint and explain his feelings to Louis. "Nothing's in Liberty City. That's, like, the point."_

_Louis slowly grabs a pair of pants, tossing it into a box. "Liberty City, huh." Louis says and Bar can tell he hurt his feelings by keeping this a secret, "You're just now telling me this?" Louis turns and his face redder and Bar knows he's in for it. "You- How long have you been planning this? I could go with you-" Bar ignores Louis's voice crack. "I didn't wanna tell you because I don't want you to throw away your future," Bar admits, "I know you'd go with me. That's the problem, Louis." Louis throws himself onto the bed, laying over Bar's legs, now looking at the ceiling. "I wouldn't," Louis denies after a moment. "You definitely would and your mom would hate me." Bar picks at the blanket. "Would you?" Louis asks. "Would you come with me? No matter where I went?"_

_'Yes,' Bar answers silently, 'because I'm selfish.' But instead Bar replies with a quiet, "You wouldn't ask me to follow you."_

_"But if I did?" A sharp pain shoots through his chest. "You'd get sick of me, Louis-" "Stop deflecting and answer, Bar."_

_Bar shuffles slightly, propping himself to lean back on his elbows. "I love you, dude," Bar says and Louis's head snaps towards Bar with wide eyes. "But- no. I couldn't do that to you."_

_"You're my best friend, Louis," Bar smiles and his eyes water and he's glad Louis can't see. He has a reputation to maintain. "And being your best friend means I can't ask that of you." Silence. Then a quiet, "I need to finish packing." Bar gets up to help but Louis turns to him with a palm up. "I'll finish alone," He says with the saddest smile Bar's seen on his face, "So- please. Go."_

_Bar doesn't want to go, not really. He wants to help. But Louis looks like he's on the verge of tears so Bar leaves._

_And that was the last time he sees and hears from Louis._


	2. Camille

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Camille.

_He's drunk when he lands, and he's drunk when he gets into the taxi to his apartment. He knew Camille would be there, waiting, patiently. Actually... he's pretty sure she'd be high or drunk, too. Maybe both. He's also pretty sure he sees a sign that reads 'Welcome to Los Santos', which means... he ended up where he was supposed to. Wait, yeah, that makes sense._

_His head kinda slaps against the window, his hair covering his eyes now. Ugh, he thinks passively, he'd have to get Camille to cut his hair or something. The cold of the window feels so good against his face, he almost doesn't leave when he arrives to his apartment. But the taxi driver is rushing him so he tosses a hundred at him, getting out. He sways slightly, making his way inside, bumping into the doorframe._

_Pushing the door open, he sees Camille on the couch, smoking a cigarette, the window open. "Camille," He greets, walking by to sit on the loveseat. Her gaze meets his, a smirk on her face. "Glad you could make it, Bar," She says, eyes glazed over. So she was high. Mm. He wonders if she saved any for him. Not that'd he get up now, anyway. "We," Camille points at herself and then at Bar, "have a job tomorrow." "Yeah?" She nods. He's just noticed that she's wearing the tank top he got her for Christmas all those years ago. It was a white tank top with a peach on it. She ended up getting him a similar one, with a lemon, though that was the next Christmas._

_"Can you, uh, cut my hair?" She eyes him. "Like right now? You want--" She makes a scissor motion with her hands. "Now?" He nods, "Yeah, if you want." Camille snorts. "You're dumb. We're not sober-" "That's the point, I won't care what it looks like now," Bar interrupts, "I trust you." Camille giggles wildly. "You shouldn't." He smiles at her._

_"I know."_

* * *

_He knew it was his own fault, but now he sports a mullet. A mullet with shaved sides. Camille comes up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. She looks tired, he notices. "You hate it," Camille states. "No-" Camille pinches his side. "Don't lie to me, Bar. We've been together for too long for you to lie and get away with it." Bar chuckles, nodding in defeat. "But you gave it to me, so I guess I can learn to love it." Camille gives a long side glance. "You're a charmer." "Only because you taught me," Bar says, casually, before leaning to kiss the side of her temple. She playfully slaps his arm._

_"Now we gotta get ready for our job," Camille announces, heading to their bedroom. Bar follows with a yawn._

_"Do we gotta?" "Yes."_

* * *

_One year, two years, three pass with relative ease. The fourth year though-- that's when he notices Camille doesn't smile nearly as much as she used to, but it's not like he does either. She's rarely home, but then again it's not like he is either. He still loves her, and he's sure she still loves him. Vaguely._

_He's laying down on the couch, watching the TV. It's easy enough to zone out as he thinks more about their situation. They had discussed that the fifth year-- they'd get engaged. Now he's stuck wondering if that's still the plan. "Bar," a voice calls from the doorway. He begrudgingly sits up, eyeing her. "'Sup?" She walks over to him, setting a bag on the table. He looks up at her. "Got us some weed and a new bong." His brows furrow. "Didn't we just get one?" She shrugs. "Yeah, and?" Bar bites the inside of his cheek. It didn't matter, he guesses. "Nothing, I was just wondering if it broke or somethin'." She shakes her head. "Nope. Wanna get high?" He eyes the bag._

_"Not really," he finally says. Camille bites her lip, nodding. "Okay. I'm gonna go over to Ashley's then." Bar nods. He had not even the slightest idea as to who that was. He only knew the original people who brought them down here to start running and then some. Camille was always the more charismatic of the two. "Be safe," he throws out when he realizes she's almost left. "Yup," She calls back, closing the door._

_He lays back down._

_Bar notices she left a joint for him. It makes him smile a little._

* * *

_He knows what's coming from the moment he steps inside. Six years together. The last two empty, void of most and any affection. They were essentially just roommates, coworkers. They should've broken up during their fourth year, he knew it and he knew she knew it. But it was comfortable. He was comfortable with filling their life with drugs and so was she._

_"Bar," Camille calls from the kitchen. He glances at the mirror in the doorway. He's still kept this mullet, after all this time. He doesn't think he'll get rid of it, not now. Straightening up, he walks in, Camille in the tank top from a different time altogether. She eyes him, her hand on the bottle of whiskey. She takes a big gulp as he sits down across from her. "Bar," her speech slurs ever so slightly, her hand reaching across to grab his. "I'm moving back." Bar nods. "I think... we need to break up." Bar bites any and all tears back as he nods again. Right. He knew this was a long time coming. "Okay." She eyes him. "I... I have a place to stay, so... you can just live here." Bar nods again, his chest tightening as she talks. She nods._

_That's all that's said between them as they pack all of her belongings. They both knew if either of them said anything, she'd stay and be unhappy for another six years. He was fine with being unhappy, but he wasn't okay with her being unhappy. So he watches as her friend picks her up._

_He doesn't cry when she's gone, just picks up the whiskey bottle she left behind and finishes it._


End file.
